Page 83 of Piece By Piece

“Grant, at least hear me out.”

“I’ve heard you out. The offer is generous. The platform is impressive, and I’m very flattered that you think the W. Elliott brand is worth building around, but the answer is a firm no.”

“Can I ask why?”

Grant looked out the window of his shop.

The square was completely quiet.

The fairy lights were off because they only came on at dusk.

“Because I spent three years running from things that matter, and I just found the place where I want to stop running.”

Jonathan was quiet for a long moment.

“Well, I suppose that’s either very brave or very foolish.”

“Probably a little bit of both.”

“The offer stays open for thirty days if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

He hung up.

The weight of the decision should have felt enormous, but instead he felt like he had set down something he’d been carrying for far too long.

His arms even felt lighter.

His chest felt more open.

He looked at Owen’s photo on the shelf, with his tiny fish and enormous grin.

“I’m staying,” he said out loud. “I’m staying, and I’m going to try to stop being an idiot. I know you’d have something to say about that.”

The photo didn’t answer, but Grant could have sworn his grin got wider.

He sat down at his workbench, pulled out a clean sheet of paper, and picked up his pen.

Not a pencil.

A pen.

Blue ink.

And he started writing.

Grant wrote it by hand because he felt like some things just shouldn’t be typed.

The pen was blue. He’d bought it at the pharmacy. It was nothing special, just the kind of disposable ballpoint that came in those packs of ten.

He thought about her father’s blue pen, the one he used for crosswords. It wasn’t an accidental choice because nothing Grant did was accidental.

He wrote slowly, each word placed with the same care he gave to filling a crossword grid.

He crossed out three openings before he found the right one.

Liza,